


Connor X Fem-Reader – Do You Dream?

by writeyouin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gore, One dumb bitch who can't get his shit together (Connor), Reader-Insert, Romance, Sexual Violence, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: You and Connor are best friends, having met on the force after the android revolution. However, when Connor suddenly sees you as more, he has no idea how to go about it without ruining the friendship the two of you share. How is an android to deal with a whole new level of emotions?Warnings - This somehow became a crime fic with violent sexual undertones so please, be careful and stay away if you're triggered by violence and sexual abuse.





	1. An Ache

**Author's Note:**

> A/N – There aren’t any real spoilers for the game in this fic so don’t worry about that.

It had taken a long time, much longer than anyone would have liked, but the tensions surrounding androids after their liberation were finally abating. Connor adored his new-found freedom. He had a home with Hank who had become like his adoptive father, a regular pay check from the DPD which didn’t feel like the allowance Cyberlife had given him, he had a routine in work, and he had a best friend in you.

Before deviancy, Connor didn’t understand the complexities of human social chains nor how people could choose one friend over another to be the ‘ _best friend,’_ but after you were assigned to be Connor and Hank’s partner within the DPD, he finally got it; a best friend was someone you could share every secret and aspiration with, trusting that they would understand and support you with everything they had.

Connor thought about you with a smile as he entered the DPD on the crisp Detroit morning, surprised to find that you’d actually beaten him there for once. He grinned, sneaking past you, into the canteen where he poured a cup of green tea. He stalked silently behind you, hoping to frighten you when he leaned over, putting the cup on your desk; unfortunately, he’d played that trick one too many times and you were prepared for it.  You didn’t even look up from your report.

“I’m not drinking that,” You said drily.

“It’s good for you; much healthier than coffee,” Connor smirked, pushing the cup closer to you.

“C’mon Robocop, if the coffee here is shit, then green tea, which is naturally shit must taste like sewage.” You finally looked up, “No Hank today?”

“It was too early for him.”

“And?”

“And he threw his alarm clock.”

“ **And?** ”

“…And it hit me in the chest.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “Sounds about right.”

Connor perched on the edge of your desk, looking much more human in his mannerisms than when you first met him. “You’re here early today.”

“Yep,” You got back to your work, avoiding Connor’s gaze.

He stared at you long and hard, “Wait… Don’t tell me you pissed off the Captain again?”

You threw up your hands frustratedly, “I was right this time!”

Connor shook his head exasperatedly, “What’s the punishment this time?”

“Desk duty till I apologise.”

“Then say sorry already.”

“No. I don’t care if he is the Captain, I caught a major Red Ice dealer… who cares if I didn’t call for backup?”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow, spinning a few times as he looked up recent closed cases pertaining to you. Almost immediately, his LED turned red. He straightened up, taking on a serious air, “(Y/N), you took on Vixen without calling for backup! She’s the Blood Gang leader!”

“Ugh, don’t research me Con, you know I hate that.”

“Don’t try and play cute here (Y/N), you could have been killed. Why didn’t you call me or Hank? We’ve been working that case with you for months now. What were you thinking?”

You fiddled with your pen guiltily, unable to bring yourself to look at Connor, or more specifically his LED which hadn’t changed back from the violent red, indicating his anger. Usually, he would have berated you then let it go but at this he seemed genuinely upset; you understood of course, if the roles were reversed you would have reacted the same way.

“It’s not what you think Connor,” You said sullenly, “I just… I got an anonymous tip about Vixen and I went to do some recon. When I got there, she was alone, no security and you know that’s a once in a lifetime opportunity… Please forgive me. Pretty please. I’ll drink your shitty tea if you do.”

Conor sighed, his posture relaxing and his LED switching back to its usual calming blue.

“Fine,” He conceded. “Just don’t do it again.”

“You think I’ll get a chance? I’m gonna be on desk duty for the rest of my life… I guess it’ll be up to you to save the city for a while, Robocop.”

Connor winked before walking away, “Drink your tea, desk jockey.”

You scowled disgustedly but didn’t argue further, fulfilling your promise and draining the Styrofoam cup as you got back to the dreadfully dull task of filling out reports.

* * *

Connor held a neatly boxed cake under his arm, his attempt to cheer you up on your fifth week on desk duty. Evidently, the Captain didn’t appreciate your insubordination, and you were much too stubborn for your own good. If Connor played his cards right, he might be able to bribe you with the delectable dessert he knew to be your favourite so you would at least fake an apology to the Captain.

He headed into the unusually busy bullpen; normally by this time it was just you and him, with a few stragglers from the previous shift. He scanned around for you, going to Hank’s desk when he didn’t see you. Hank eyed Connor carefully as he sat gracefully down, placing the cake box gently on his desk as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

The way Hank stared him down made him ask, “Is something wrong?”

Hank scrubbed a hand over his beard, “You heard from (Y/N) this morning?”

“No. As you’ve just witnessed, I entered the building only a minute ago.”

“Don’t be a smartass… Look, I’ve got good news and bad news for ya, kid.”

Connor waited patiently.

“The good news is that (Y/N)’s finally done paper pushing.”

“She apologised?”

“Hell no! Fowler finally cracked is all. That and he found a case that (Y/N) has the ah… specific talents for,” Hank blushed uncomfortably, leading Connor to wonder what skill set of yours he could possibly be embarrassed about; he was about to ask until Hank started speaking again.

“The bad news is that (Y/N)’s still not in the all clear and this is basically a test run to see that she can follow the rules, so she isn’t working with us. She’s working under Gavin.”

“Under Gavin? How can she work under Gavin? They’re both detectives, and why him anyway? Why not anyone else in the damned precinct?”

“Relax kid, (Y/N) can handle herself and Gavin’s the lead Detective on this case. So long as (Y/N) shuts up and follows orders for once, she’ll be fine.”

“Why are you okay with this?”

“Hey, pick your fights Connor. The sooner Gavin’s case is done, the sooner things will go back to normal.”

Reluctantly, Connor accepted Hank’s reasoning, surprised the Lieutenant was showing such restraint about everything. Hank hated Gavin as much as anyone, and if anything, he also looked upon you as something of a work daughter. Although it probably wouldn’t solve anything, Connor found himself wishing Hank would war with Captain Fowler over your punishment.

“Hey Robocop,” You called; Connor found himself relaxing again at the sound of your voice. “Gramps here fill you in on the good news?”

“Fuck off, I ain’t no gramps,” Hank grumbled, though there was no real bite to his tone.

Connor prepared a witty retort, but it died in his mouth when he swivelled in his chair to face you. During all his days with you, he’d only ever seen you in the casual attire detectives tended to wear, which were usually clothes fit for a chase. Now, time slowed in his android processor as it always did when he scanned his surroundings. You were in a black ballgown style dress which cut off mid-calf, exposing the rest of your leg down to the elegant heels you wore. The dress was patterned with golden constellations and at either side were three leather straps acting like fabric ribs.

The longer Connor looked, the more he saw. Your hair was different, and Connor couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you were wearing makeup. As he took everything in, he began to feel strange; it was like something was clutching at his insides. Being an android, Connor was still learning which emotions were which; this new one taking over him was completely unrecognisable. What was happening to him?

“Hey Connor, is something on my face?” You asked innocently.

Connor blinked rapidly, wondering when he’d stopped scanning you and had let time catch up with him. “Uh, no, nothing unusual.”

“Then stop staring at it,” You laughed.

Connor looked down at his feet awkwardly, finding himself glad he couldn’t blush, though he wasn’t sure why it mattered to him so much.

Fortunately, all pressure was taken away from him when Hank spoke, “Wow, when you told me what was going on, I didn’t think you’d get so into it.”

“Going on?” Connor repeated, latching on to anything that would distract him from the heavy weight on his chest.

You smiled playfully, leaning against Connor’s desk in a way that only distracted him further. “Okay, so, nine women are killed in separate locations, all in the same way, and Gavin gets his head out of his ass long enough to put two plus two together and realise the killer’s M.O. and get this, only one cop here fits the bill of each victim perfectly,” You pointed to yourself. “Each vic was my average height, weight, and hair colour. I mean, what are the chances right? I don’t have the eyes, but hey, what’re contacts for if not this? Anyway, after looking into the case file Gavin had, all I needed was a change of clothes, which I already had at home and-”

“Wait, you already owned that?” Hank snorted. “Fuckin’ princess.”

“You know, I do go out without the two of you sometimes. Getting back to the story, Fowler gives me permission to work with Gavin, who thinks he’s found the next location. In a few hours, me and Gavin will be in the Sunset Vista Bar so I can-”

“Act as bait!” Connor growled frustratedly.

“Go Undercover,” You said forcefully, wondering what had gotten into Connor to make him act so weird; by now he should have been getting excited at the prospect of your unique case.

As you considered what might be wrong with Connor, he was asking himself the same question. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and that while Gavin was an ass, he was also a great Detective. Despite that, Connor wanted to ask you not to go, he wanted to tell you Gavin couldn’t protect you and that you should stay with him and Hank instead. He ran a diagnostic check on himself, expecting a virus, but finding nothing. If he didn’t have a virus, why did he ache when he looked at you?

Before anyone could say anything else, the three of you were interrupted by a long, appreciative whistle. You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest as Gavin approached. “Wow, gotta say (Y/N), you clean up good. If all it took was a serial killer to get you all pretty, I would have found one ages ago. So, we know what it takes to get you into a dress, tell me, what does it take to get you out of it?”

Connor clenched his fists tightly over his thighs, staying firmly planted in his seat in case he did something he would later regret. Normally, whenever Gavin said something stupid or derogatory, which was often, Connor was able to ignore it; he’d never actually wanted to hurt the man before.

Fortunately, Hank said what everything was thinking, never fearing the consequences because of his rank as Lieutenant, “Why don’t you fuck off back to the hole you crawled from, Gavin.”

Gavin ignored Hank, moving uncomfortably close to you, conveying his intentions clearly. “How about it after work? Just you, me and a lot of alcohol.”

You sighed, wishing you weren’t backed against a desk, yet gathering your composure anyway. “Reed, you didn’t have any interest in me before, get off my case now, yeah?”

Gavin let his eyes traverse your body. “Just think about it. One date with me is one hundred percent guaranteed to end in sex.”

You smiled cheekily, meeting his eyes for the first time. “Aw, Gavin, precious, whatever you do with your hand at the end of the night is your business, but I wouldn’t call it sex.”

Hank laughed heartily while Gavin glared at you vehemently, trying to repair his damaged ego. “Hey, you remember who’s keeping you safe tonight,” He warned, storming away moodily shortly thereafter.

You waved at his back triumphantly, basking in your victory as Hank hooted in his chair. While you and Hank celebrated, Connor found himself in a conundrum. He got up, leaving his desk mechanically so he could gather his thoughts in the bathroom. Once there, he stared at himself in the mirror, breathing hard and thinking of you. The ache hadn’t gone away, and unlike the cake in the box on his desk, it would not be forgotten. Hank was wrong, things wouldn’t ever go back to normal, at least not for Connor.


	2. Connor X Fem-Reader – Do You Dream? Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while this chapter doesn’t specifically go into sex or anything, being a crime fic, it gets pretty gory mentioning some assaulters and stuff that you may want to avoid. Read at your own discretion and stay safe.

Connor felt terrible, like he was the scum of the Earth for not trusting you to do your job properly even though he knew you could. Yet, as he weaved through the throng of drunken people at the hottest club in Detroit ‘ _Sunset Vista,_ ’ he told himself it was for the best, so long as he didn’t make it a habit. You were his best friend and his partner; he refused to let you take on a serial killer with only Gavin as backup.

He scanned his surroundings, hating that people kept jostling him even though he was standing perfectly still, and why as the music so loud? It didn’t even have a good beat. Connor knew you. He knew you hated this kind of music. You hated the flashing lights and crowds. You hated the stench of sweat, vomit and smoke that filled the stale air. You hated the kind of seedy people who swooped in, treating you like you were theirs to play with. You shouldn’t be here, you should be hanging out with Hank and Sumo… and him.

Connor spotted Gavin in a booth in the very corner of the room, speaking into a mouthpiece. He followed Gavin’s line of sight, finding you at the bar with your back to him, talking with a man, presumably your suspect.

Connor dived behind a pillar, even though he knew you wouldn’t see him. He got distracted momentarily by the tacky décor, his face scrunching up disgustedly at the sight of two people next to him making out and were they…? Yes. Yes, they were. He didn’t want to think about how dirty the rest of the club was since the couple were far on their way to third base in public.

Ignoring them, Connor got back to watching you, wishing immediately that he hadn’t. He balled his fists against the pillar upon seeing you perched on a bar stool, with the hands of a possible killer sneaking up your dress to feel up your legs. That was a long dress, one that didn’t invite any unwanted touching, but there he was, doing it anyway and you were helpless to stop him.

Connor ran the man’s face through his built-in criminal database, finding a match on several old cases of aggravated sexual assault. “Figures,” he murmured moodily. “Pervert.”

Looking back to Gavin, Connor saw that he’d hid his microphone behind a large coke. That was good, it meant he was doing his job. Connor tapped into the ear piece, listening to Gavin’s instructions to you and promised himself again it would just be this once.

He believed in your ability as a Detective, but you’d never been against a murderer this sick before. The cops in the precinct had nicknamed the killer ‘ _The Fornication Flayer_ ’. Connor had examined the contents of Gavin’s case file, which had inevitably driven him to stalking you now, but how could he not? The Fornication Flayer lured innocent young women away from bars such as this one, probably promising them a good time, then tortured and murdered them in the most vile, horrific manner. Whoever he was, he flayed the skin off his victims up to the neck, leaving the face perfectly preserved, and then proceeded to have intercourse with the corpses, which had been found out by the semen left behind; the coroner’s reports also revealed that the women were alive during the flaying, dying slowly from shock or eventual blood loss.

Connor’s perfect memory had stored every word and image, and he wished to RA9 he’d never opened the damned file. You’d only been chosen for this case because you happened to resemble the victims. Connor couldn’t stop picturing your face atop the victims’ flayed bodies, tortured and violated; he was glad he couldn’t physically vomit, sure he would have had he not been an android.

“-doing good (Y/N), but I need you to flirt more.”

Connor was dragged back to reality at the sound of your name; it was Gavin speaking to you through your wire.

“I’m pretty sure this is our guy, you have to be irresistible. He needs to think you’re going home with him. Ask him if he lives alone and for God’s sake feel him up a bit.”

You laughed girlishly, having an entirely different conversation with your suspect, Alastair Forrest. “Stupid hair,” Connor growled, glaring murderously at the man’s blonde quiff, by far his most defining feature. “Sunglasses indoors… Is this an episode of CSI?”

You leaned forward slightly, showing off your cleavage and placing hand on Alastair’s chest. Connor found an even deeper hatred for the man, but more worrying, the undefinable ache had come back with a vengeance. ‘ _Not now,_ ’ He prayed. ‘ _Please, not now._ ’

“Really?” You simpered. “You live all by yourself? Wow, what’s your room like? I have this theory see, that people look like their bedrooms… I bet yours is all dark and mysterious and  _sexy._ ”

Connor couldn’t hear what Alastair was saying from your mic, nor could he lipread with the accursed flashing lights. He could guess however, maybe he was saying that he was an idiot and that he wasn’t worth your time… Apparently not. Alastair gestured to the bartender casually.

“Oh, another drink?” You asked.

_‘Another drink?!’_ Connor had to force himself not to jump out there and then. He couldn’t believe Gavin had let you drink on this mission, that idiot couldn’t have commanded you to say you were allergic to alcohol? Connor knew it wold have been a stupid excuse but the idea of sharing casual drinks with a psychopath didn’t sit well with him.

“But I’m already feeling so light-headed,” You said, playing your part as well as you could. “Can’t we just go back to your place?”

Alastair verbally recoiled, “I don’t know about that.”

Gavin weighed in on the wire, “We’re losing him, backtrack and get the damn drink.”

You played with your hair cutely, “Well…I guess one more shot couldn’t hurt.”

Alastair grinned charmingly, turning to get the drink and deftly drugging it.

“Don’t drink,” Gavin warned. “It’s drugged. Play a distraction, I’ve got this.”

Connor breathed a sigh of relief at Gavin’s words; at least he was paying attention. Acting fast, you crushed your body against Alastair’s, dragging his face to yours for an impromptu make-out session in a way only the drunk or inexperienced do, ever dedicated to your role as the intoxicated, unworldly girl you were supposed to be.

Connor was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of feelings that hit him, each simultaneously vying for his attention, yet being completely indistinguishable from one another. He touched his face absently, finding wet tracks from his eyes. It didn’t make sense, why was he crying? It had to be concern for you right? After all, you were his best friend and you were being forced to pimp yourself out to a criminal.

Connor was at least able to feel some relief when he saw Gavin make a twirling motion with his hand to the bartender. The bartender, evidently a plant, nodded, swapping your drugged drink for an identical one.

“‘Kay lover girl, you’re in the clear. Drink up and act drugged after,” Gavin said.

“Sorry,” You breathed, letting Alastair go and picking up your drink. “Got lost in the moment. Cheers.”

Connor was again tempted to blow his cover and beat Alastair to a pulp there and then after seeing his smug smile. Instead, he watched you and Alastair head to the back exit, you leaning on him for support. Connor spared one last look to Gavin who was close behind, unholstering his gun, and following you closely.

Connor forced himself to count slowly to five, then followed, wishing he was also allowed a gun in case things somehow got worse, but laws took time to change and as an android, he still wasn’t allowed a firearm of any kind. By the time he got to the exit overlooking the staff parking lot, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. You’d handcuffed Alastair and were leading him to Gavin’s beat up Mustang.

After only one night, you had broken a police record, capturing a serial killer. It was unprecedented, but Connor didn’t care about the achievement, so long as things would go back to normal and you’d be partnered  back with him and Hank. He hoped he’d forget the ache that plagued him, and you would never know he was there. After watching the three of you drive away, he went home.

* * *

 

“What?” Connor asked through gritted teeth. He was in the precinct with Hank, listening to your account of the night before. As it happened, Alastair wasn’t the killer, he was however being charged with several other cases of sexual assault that he’d confessed to during interrogation. Naturally, because you weren’t a miracle cop who’d captured a serial killer on your first go, you were still partnered up with Gavin until the case was over.

“Well, yeah, I-” You stopped, hearing Gavin called your name, beckoning you over. “Duty calls guys, see you later.”

Connor waited till you were out of earshot before addressing Hank; he needed advice where it came to his ache. “I don’t like this.”

Hank nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah… Working a case like that, it’s fuckin’ tough.”

Connor sat perfectly still, contemplating what little he knew about his recent string of problems concerning you. “No,” He said slowly. “Hank, I think something’s wrong with me.”

Hank straightened up, immediately showing concern. “What is it, Connor? Is it Cyberlife? Is Amanda back?”

“It’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)? Shit Connor, every cop has a rough case once in a while, you know that.”

“No, you don’t understand. She’s my best friend and last night I was- I was scared for her so I… I followed her and I saw something… something bad, but worse, I felt something I didn’t understand.”

Hank frowned, waiting for Connor to elaborate. In his early days of deviancy this had happened a lot; Connor would explain an emotion he didn’t understand, and Hank would help him through it, till he could handle things better.

Connor stared at a spot in the air, probably seeing a million things Hank couldn’t, and still he said nothing. Growing annoyed with the silence, Hank spoke gruffly, “Spit it out already.”

Connor took a deep breath, not that he needed to; it was just one of the many ticks he’d been programmed with to make integration with humans easier. “Last night (Y/N) had to create a distraction. She kissed that- that  _criminal_! I can’t get it out of my head Hank. I know she was only following orders, but it was  _wrong!_  I didn’t like it.”

If Connor had expected some kind of fatherly advice at that moment, he was sorely mistaken. As it was, Hank shook his head disgustedly, annoyed with Connor’s ignorance. “Connor, you fuckin’ idiot.”

Connor blinked rapidly, startled by the response.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Hank pointed warningly.

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with me?”

“A whole bunch of shit, but none of that has anything to do with this. You were jealous last night idiot. You like (Y/N), that’s all.”

Connor slumped forward, considering Hank’s explanation carefully, “Of course I like her, we’re best friends.”

“No, you’re friends with my damn dog, you  **like**  (Y/N).”

“I don’t-”

“Do I have to spell it out?! Step up and ask her out so you can stop bothering me with this shit. Damn it, I don’t wanna see you get mopey about this, ya hear?”

Connor shot up quickly, knocking the desk hard enough to make the computer atop it wobble unceremoniously. He finally understood the double entendre ‘ _like,_ ’ but that didn’t mean it was true, did it? You were his best friend, he didn’t see you in a romantic light, right? His LED flickered yellow as he analysed his actions over the last twenty-four hours.  _Hank had to be wrong_. He cross-referenced his behaviour with research he’d compiled on humans.  _It couldn’t be true_. Only one result came back from his extensive search.

Hank was right, Connor liked you as more than a friend. Worse however, was the green monster jealousy he felt when he glanced over at you, working so closely with his long-time rival, Gavin Reed; he didn’t like it one bit.


	3. Isn’t It Awkward?

‘ _Step up and ask her out,_ ’ Hank had said so matter-of-factly, but as Connor sat in the restaurant awaiting your arrival, he cursed himself for how he’d gone about it. Afraid that you’d suddenly be snapped up, Connor had acted immediately and decided to ask you out on his and your shared day off. In retrospect, it might have been better to ask you out a few days prior, but he was afraid that with too much time to think you might talk yourself out of it, so he’d opted to bite the bullet and do it today.

Despite his nerves, he’d compartmentalised the entire thing, planning everything he thought you’d enjoy that were in line with social customs. First, he’d spent a good amount of money on a flattering navy-blue three-piece suit that he’d seen you admire once in a shop window. After that, he researched Detroit’s restaurants, choosing one that was classy and served your favourite foods. When he arrived at the restaurant, he bribed the host for the corner table, which his research indicated to be the most romantic. Everything was perfect except one thing; in all his haste, he’d forgotten to invite you.

Connor held his face in his hands tiredly, dragging them upwards to his hair, mussing it slightly though it quickly went back into place. In his head, he kept replaying the call he’d made to you about half an hour ago when he realised his mistake. Did he really shout? What were you going to think when you got the voicemail?

“(Y/N), IT’S CONNOR. YOU’VE GOT TO GET EAST SIDE TO THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT IMMEDIATELY! IT’S IMPORTANT!” Then he’d hung up, RA9, he’d hung up! Could things have gone any worse?

One of the perks of being an android was that Connor never forgot anything, but apparently even the most flawless memory could be affected by sheer nerves. Why was the prospect of dating you so different to being your best friend? As your friend, Connor was witty, charming, and playful. As a date, if he could call himself that, he was awkward and forgetful.

“Connor!” You called, gulping in a breath of air immediately afterwards, “Jeez, I- I got- God I’m unfit-” You held up a finger, indicating you needed a minute to recover.

It gave Connor all the time he needed to analyse your attire. If his suspicions were correct, and they usually were, you’d been near your house when you got the voicemail, which would explain why you didn’t have a coat, then you’d taken a taxi to him, though that didn’t explain why you were out of breath. Connor got up, attempting to escort you to your chair, but you waved him away, apparently recovered from your exertion.

“I got a taxi,” You explained. “But there was so much damn traffic- I- I ran the rest of the way. Are you okay? Your message-”

“I’m fine,” Connor murmured, trying to find his voice. He’d gotten off to a bad start but maybe he could get everything back on track. He offered you the chair again, “Please, take a seat.”

You faltered, wondering what was going on. Taking a quick look around, you suddenly felt self-conscious. The Forbidden Fruit was a prestigious restaurant that at least everyone in Detroit had heard of or seen in magazines. It was the kind of place with an obnoxious obsession with the colour red, and imposing drapes that were supposed to create an image of warmth and intimacy. It was a place one went to dressed in only the most formal clothing, yet you’d just ran in panting, wearing torn, faded jeans, and a woolly jumper fit for home which was where you’d been going before Connor’s ominous voicemail. No wonder the surrounding diners were staring at you with disdain, barely hushing their whispers about you.

Blushing, you sat down, tucking in your own chair before Connor could. He retook his own seat opposite, thinking of what he should say to explain his behaviour.

You ignored the onlookers, regaining your train of thought, “I got here as soon as I could.”

“I know. I’m sorry to have worried you, I just- You need to be here tonight. Here,” he passed you a menu. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” You said slowly. “No, I haven’t.”

“I’ve heard the food here is impeccable,” Connor smiled boyishly. “Oh, and for the record, you look beautiful tonight.”

Beautiful? Connor hadn’t called you beautiful before. You glanced at his new suit, then to your surroundings until your gaze finally landed on the dim candle on the table, the pieces slowly falling into place.

“Connor,” You placed your hand comfortingly over his, “um, sweetie, is this a… date?”

Connor’s smile faltered, his breath catching in his throat. If you had to ask then he’d screwed up worse than he imagined with his social blunder. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, in every great love story, the characters knew they were being wooed, why didn’t you? Succumbing to panic, he pulled his hand sharply away, laughing anxiously. “A- A date? No. I mean, if it was, you’d certainly know about it beforehand. I- This isn’t a date.”

“Okay, then fill me in Robocop, why am I here?”

Connor’s android mind formed a thousand responses in a millisecond, not all of them plausible. He quickly settled for one that seemed reasonable, whispering so only you would hear, “This is a stakeout.”

“A stakeout?” You repeated doubtfully.

“Yes, I got a tip that a big Red Ice dealer would be here tonight. ”

“Who?”

“Who?” Connor repeated you dumbly.

“Yeah, who’re we watching?”

“Oh, uh, him, there,” Connor pointed to the first person he saw, a portly man with lobster sauce down his bib, dining with a young lady who you would have guessed to be his daughter; he couldn’t have looked further from a criminal if he tried.

“Him? Are you sure? He looks kind of-”

“I’m sure,” Connor answered curtly, gripping the sides of his chair so tight he could feel the wood splinter; he was glad the tablecloth hid his hands from view.

“Okay… Um, don’t you think you can handle this one on your own Connor? I don’t think the guy could outrun a three-legged pig, let alone you.”

Connor committed himself to the lie, mentally cursing that he hadn’t told you the truth when he had the chance. “I- I need evidence he’s my guy. I’ve got a wire over there and well, it’s kind of dumb to be honest but I ran into a little snag. I can’t stay here without ordering food, but I don’t eat so I needed someone and there’s nobody I trust more than you. Please stay.”

You softened at his expression, thinking about how he could give Sumo a run for his money on who had better puppy-dog eyes. “Okay Robocop, I’ll stay.”

Connor smiled again hoping that things would go easier from there; he couldn’t have been more wrong. Because of his insane story, the conversation was limited to work talk and as such, he had to invent an entire fictional life for the man the two of you were now stuck watching. The meal quickly grew quiet and Connor was sure you were finding it as strained as he was.

Claiming he was going to check in with his source, Connor excused himself, heading outside where he called Hank for help.

“Yeah?” Hank answered the phone distractedly.

“She didn’t know,” Connor said abruptly.

“What? Connor?”

“She had to ask if it was a date and I- We’re stuck here watching some guy eat because she has no idea what’s going on.”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?”

Connor plucked his coin from his pocket, playing with it absentmindedly. “I asked (Y/N) out on a date.”

“Way to go kid,” Hank cheered.

“No… I did it wrong. (Y/N) has no idea this is a date.”

“What? Tell me exactly what you said to get her there.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want to.”

Hank groaned tiredly, “Great, so you don’t just sound goofy, you act goofy too. At least tell me where you are.”

“The Forbidden Fruit.”

“That fuckin’ poncy place everyone talks about? Shit Connor, you trying to propose? You don’t go there for a first date.”

“Hank, what do I do? The entire night’s been a disaster.”

Hank seemed momentarily lost in thought, “Hey, where’s (Y/N) right now?”

“She’s inside, watching some guy eat.”

“Why in the fuck- Never mind, I don’t wanna know. ‘Kay, you’ve gotta get back in there and start over. Get (Y/N) and take her somewhere she’ll actually like. You both like those dumb old movies, right?” Hank asked, referring to the movie nights you insisted on to get Connor up to speed with your multiple references; unsurprisingly, it had all started with Robocop.

Connor nodded, “Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

“Get to it then.” Connor heard Hank mumble a faint, “I’m too old for this shit,” as he hung up.

Putting his coin back in his pocket, Connor straightened his tie and went back inside, not bothering to sit back down when he got to the table. He quickly ordered a taxi, then got back to the matter at hand.

“C’mon,” He said, paying for your practically untouched meal and leaving a generous tip.

You frowned, “What about-”

“My tip was a bust.”

“You’re telling me I’ve spent my night watching some regular guy eat, for absolutely no reason at all.”

Connor smiled sheepishly, “I can make this up to you.”

“How?”

“Movie night, your choice of film.”

You got up, “Fine, but only if you throw in some chocolate.”

“Chocolate? (Y/N), it’s bad for you.”

“Hey,” You said defensively, “the food here was tiny, I ate like a bean. Besides, chocolate comes from a plant, so technically that makes it a salad.”

Connor shook his head disbelievingly, holding the door open for you, “I would love to understand the way you think.”

The cold air hit you immediately and you shivered, wishing you’d brought a coat out. You held out your hand expectantly, “Jacket.”

This was a regular occurrence between the two of you since Connor couldn’t feel the cold. He complied, removing his jacket but holding it tauntingly out of reach. “What’s the magic word?”

“Connnnnor,” You whined.

“Say I’m the handsomest detective you’ve ever seen, and you can have it.”

You placed a hand over your chest in mock offence, “And take the title from Hank? You sick bastard.”

“Hank! There’s no way Hank is better looking than me. I know you like my hair.”

“Whatever you need to say to live with yourself.” You swiped for the jacket, missing by a long shot.

“Say it.”

“You would let your best friend die of hypothermia? Some hero.”

“Hmm… It’s not what I asked for, but I’ll settle for being your hero.” He draped the jacket over your shoulders, using the action to hold onto you momentarily, imagining briefly what it would be like if you leaned into his touch.

“Sweet warmth,” You sighed happily.

Before Connor could say anything else, the taxi arrived and you slid in, inputting your address, evidently forgetting the chocolate Connor owed you, though it didn’t matter; he’d already ordered a bouquet of roses to be delivered to your desk at work, hoping you’d appreciate them more. He sat next to you, secretly admiring the way you looked wearing his jacket; thank RA9 Hank had told him what to do, things were already looking up.

* * *

Connor didn’t know whether things were going better or worse than before. On one hand, the night was no longer awkward. On the other, Connor wasn’t really making any progress towards a relationship as the two of you watched old films together. True, you were laying on him, clearly comfortable in his presence, but you weren’t doing anything that two friends wouldn’t. Connor was glad you liked to talk through films, filling him in on little facts about them as they went along; it meant you didn’t notice his long silence while he considered what he had to do to show his interest.

The film eventually ended and as usual you got off Connor with a stretch and a yawn, though this was the first time he truly missed your weight on him.

His internal clock indicated that it was exactly twenty minutes past one in the morning. “(Y/N), can I stay here tonight? You know how grumpy Hank gets when I wake him at this time.”

You chuckled, remembering the furious phone call you’d received the last time you sent Connor home in the early hours of the morning; since then, he often stayed at your house and it always looked cleaner in the morning.

“Sure Connor. You know you don’t need to ask.” You yawned again, “I wish I could stay up like you can. I feel bad leaving you alone while I sleep.”

Connor felt a question on the tip of his tongue, which despite trying to, he couldn’t hold back from asking. “What is it like to sleep?”

You snorted tiredly, “I dunno, what’s it like to recharge? Isn’t that kind of like sleeping?”

Connor didn’t reply, his LED spun yellow, indicating he was thinking. Finally, he looked up, ignoring your question and saying decisively, “I’d like to try it.”

He didn’t really know why he’d said it, only that it had been an impulse to do so. He knew he couldn’t actually sleep, but something about the prospect seemed intriguing.

“Try it,” You shrugged casually.

“What?”

“Sleeping. Give it a whirl, you can share my bed.”

Connor stared at you disbelievingly. You were really going to share your bed with him? He scanned your heartrate, hoping that it might have spiked, but it remained stubbornly calm; you didn’t view this as a romantic opportunity. As usual, you were indulging him, encouraging him to try something new like it was nothing. What was going through your head?

As it happened, you were happy at the idea of Connor sharing your bed, mainly because you hated waking up to find he’d gone into recharge in the hallway like an unnerving ghost, lit-up only by his blue LED.

You patted his arm, “Think it over, I’m going to get changed.”

“I have nothing to wear,” Connor said anxiously.

“Then wear nothing,” You grinned devilishly. Connor’s mouth dropped open slightly, his eyes growing wide with surprise. You took pity on him, “Connor, I was joking, relax. I dunno… I don’t have any guy clothes, so just do whatever feels comfy.”

“What would be your suggestion?”

“Some guys like tops, some don’t, make a choice. Hell, where my clothes for all I care, just let me get changed.”

You went to your room, followed closely by Connor, who remained there as you grabbed some pyjamas and went to the bathroom to get changed. He was relieved you didn’t have any men’s clothes even if it made his own situation harder. Running a hand over your bed, he wondered if he was really going through with this, especially after he’d only talked about sleep on a whim. Committing to a decision, he removed his tie, waistcoat and shirt. When you came back, Connor was afraid you’d see his thrium pump practically beating through his chest.

You got into your side of the bed, patting the other for him. Connor found himself slightly hurt that your heart rate still remained normal; you’d never seen him shirtless before. Rationally, he knew you were probably just being respectful, but he’d still hoped for some kind of reaction. Hesitantly, Connor got into the opposite side of the bed.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asked quietly.

You switched your light off, laying on your side. “Sure,” You mumbled.

“(Y/N), is… is this something you’d do with any friend? Or… Is it just me?”

You made an incoherent noise, already falling asleep. Sighing, Connor settled into the bed, then acting on impulse, he leaned into you, draping his arm gently over your waist. You jolted awake at the touch.

“C-Connor, what’re you doing?”

Connor smiled, “My research suggests that this is a good sleeping aid. Does it bother you in some way? If it does, I can stop.”

You tried to relax again, “Well… I- I guess it’s okay… If it’s for research I mean.”

“It is.”

“Okay…Goodnight, Robocop,” You settled back down, taking Connor’s odd action as one of his many innocent social quirks.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Connor whispered your name like a promise, ecstatic that you’d reacted the way you had. When he held you, his scanner indicated that your adrenalin had spiked sharply along with your heart-rate. All was not lost. Connor knew he wouldn’t let go till he had to, for he’d gotten just a little bit closer to loving you.


	4. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are going to get gritty from here on out, I suggest you stop reading now if triggered by themes of violence and sexual nature.

Connor remained in place, still holding you from the previous night. While he hadn’t slept or gone into recharge, he had dreamed; his mind had weaved a perfect assortment of future desires of a life with you, sharing the domesticities of an everyday relationship. He was all too aware you would soon wake up and he’d have no reason to go on holding you. Briefly, he let himself slip back into the realm of daydreams, imagining a world wherein you’d wake up and he’d kiss your neck and you would reciprocate with a smile. The idea made his thirium pump flutter; it wasn’t too long ago that he couldn’t imagine anything at all, lacking the free-will to do so.

Slowly and reluctantly, Connor let you go, deciding he didn’t want to be told to do so when you woke up. Silently, he picked up his clothes, only putting his shirt back on, folding the waistcoat and jacket and leaving them on the bed. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so he at least looked semi-casual. You stirred in your sleep, snuggling back into your pillows, not quite ready to wake up. Connor smiled, barely resisting the urge to kiss your forehead; he refused to have his first kiss with you while you were asleep, should it happen at all.

Stealthily Connor crept downstairs, straightening up the house on his way to the kitchen. Although he hadn’t been built as a personal carer or service android, he had downloaded a memory update full of cooking lessons and recipes.  After the revolution, Cyberlife Industries had stopped building androids and instead released updates for them so they could choose exactly who and what they wished to be; Connor had bought several carer updates so he could better car for Hank.

As Connor began preparing eggs benedict for you, he heard the creak of floorboards upstairs, indicating you were up and beginning your morning routine. By the time you were dressed and downstairs, your meal was waiting for you on the small, two-person dining table where Connor sat opposite.

“Morning Robocop,” You smiled, sitting yourself down for breakfast.

“You talk in your sleep,” He said playfully.

“Do not.”

“And you snore.”

“ **Do not,** ” You repeated more firmly.

“I could play a recording if you don’t believe me.”

“Liar, you didn’t record me sleeping,” You reached over the table, punching his arm lightly.

“Think of what the precinct will say when they see it. You’ll lose all credibility; nothing will ever be the same.”

“Whatever nerd. What about you? After watching me sleep like a psycho, did you get any?” You asked, scooping up a fork full of egg.

Connor thought of his daydreams, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you dream?”

Connor scrubbed a hand through his hair, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“What did you dream of? Wait, let me guess, you dreamed of Gavin waiting for you in a saucy outfit, ready to take your bromance to the next level.”

It was Connor’s turn to swat you, “Never put that image in my head again.”

“’Kay so what’s the plan today? We got the luxury of two days off in a row, so am I on my own today or are you with me to cause some havoc? And by havoc, I mean shopping and other boring adult crap.”

“No time to paint the town red today, I have to see Hank about something,” Connor said evasively, neglecting to mention that the ‘something’ was you.

“To ask him if he’s seen saucy Gavin?”

“Please stop saying saucy.”

“Only for you Robocop,” You winked, tucking into your breakfast.

* * *

After you dropped Connor off, he went into Hank’s small house which had become just as much his own since their first case together. Although Connor wanted to wake Hank the moment you left to tell him about his unusual night with you, he waited till noon when Hank usually woke up; the last time he’d woken Hank up early had not been a good day for Connor.

Entertaining himself with Sumo, Connor waited as patiently as he could, finding mindless patience so much harder than it used to be before he deviated. Finally, Hank emerged, a faint odour of liquor that Connor didn’t approve of lingering on his breath; while he had reduced how much he drank greatly, Hank still had no desire to beat his alcoholism fully yet.

Connor straightened up, leaving Sumo belly up, clearly waiting for more petting. “Hank, good, you’re awake. How was your night?”

Hank ignored him, heading straight to the bathroom instead. When he re-emerged, he looked tiredly at Connor who repeated his question. “Cut the crap Connor. I know you’re waiting to ask me about (Y/N). Just spit it out already. What happened last night?”

While Hank prepared a mug of coffee, Connor wondered exactly how to explain the events of the previous night. Smiling somewhat goofily, he answered, “I slept with her.”

Hank’s mug smashed against the floor as he grabbed Connor by his shirt collar, throwing him against the wall. Anger seethed out of him, barely forming into words, “YOU DID WHAT?”

Connor’s LED span yellow upon realising his mistake. He grabbed Hank’s arms gently, careful not to anger him further, “Hank, please-”

“SHUT UP! I TOLD YOU TO WATCH A FUCKIN’ MOVIE. (Y/N) ISN’T TRASH YOU CAN USE LIKE THAT. IF I HAD MY GUN NOW, I’D-”

“HANK!” Connor waited till he knew Hank was really listening before continuing. “That’s not what I meant.”

“WHAT DID YOU MEAN THEN?”

“I meant that (Y/N) and I shared a bed. I asked what sleeping was like and she-”

Hank rolled his eyes, his grip loosening, “She encouraged you, as fuckin’ usual.”

Connor nodded, his LED slowly returning to its default blue, though the occasional flicker of yellow could still be seen; it never once turned red wherever Hank was concerned, for he never truly felt threatened by his father-figure. Finally, Hank conceded, letting Connor go.

“Should’ve guessed. (Y/N)’s into all that ‘ _experiencing life_ ’ shit. By that tone, it still wasn’t a date. What the hell is wrong with you Connor? Couldn’t get up the nerve?”

Connor straightened his shirt indignantly. “It’s like I said, she didn’t know it was a date.”

“Jesus,” Hank cursed, leaning back against the counter. “Back in my day people knew when they were on a date. That’s it, I’m taking Sumo out, you… I don’t know, figure out how to talk to women. Download one of those stupid pack things.”

Connor frowned annoyedly, “They don’t make android upgrades with dating advice.”

Hank grabbed a coat and slipped on his coat, grabbing a lead from the coat rack. “Send in a complaint then, see if I care. Whatever you do, just treat (Y/N) right. I won’t see her hurt because of this.” He whistled for Sumo, who slowly lumbered towards him.

Connor was once again left alone, more worried than before over how too woo you, without hurting you emotionally. He thought momentarily about the roses he’d ordered that would be on your desk the next day; that made him smile, there would be no mistaking those. All he had to do until then was wait and maybe prepare a speech, should you want more than what flowers would say.

* * *

 Connor grinned to himself upon spotting his roses on your desk, simply waiting to be discovered. How would you feel when you read the note that simply said, ‘ _From Robocop_ ’? He hoped you would be pleased and reciprocate his romantic feelings, but he was fully prepared for things to go the other way; he had two speeches prepared, one for acceptance and the other for rejection. He considered removing the card several times but it was too late now, there were a few officers milling around and any one of them could see him and tell you.

Keeping himself busy, Connor headed to the kitchen to bring you a cup of green tea, stopping by the entrance when he saw you enter the precinct. His artificial breath caught in his throat, a sensation he still found odd considering he didn’t need to breathe. Resisting the urge to fidget, Connor’s eyes tracked you on the way to your desk, his lips turning up slightly at the corners upon seeing the shock on your face. You glanced around for anyone who might have left the bouquet, half-expecting it to be some kind of joke; Connor did his best to avoid your gaze, leaning casually against the wall.

You picked up the card at the centre of the bouquet, any trace of happiness vanishing from your face as you held it with shaking hands. Connor felt his thirium pump drop at your expression; he couldn’t pin what you were feeling, but it certainly wasn’t anything good. He found himself reaching for his coin, stroking it absentmindedly in his pocket as he prepared to make his rejection speech that would allow the two of you to still be friends. Taking a few steps forward, his legs felt like lead and he found he had to stop, just in time to watch you march towards Gavin who had just walked in.

Gavin smiled cheekily, “If it isn’t my pretty little-”

“Shut it,” You warned in hushed tones, glaring at him fiercely; Connor would have given anything to hear what the two of you were saying at that moment.

“What’s got into you?” Gavin sneered.

You shoved the card into his chest, “You think this is some kind of joke? If it is, it’s not funny.”

Gavin skim-read the card, his lips pressing firmly together as he re-read it twice more. He shook his head, “Come on,” He grabbed your arm, leading you into the Captain’s office.

Connor watched everything unfold in the glass cage that housed the Captain. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was so much more than his card on the bouquet. The Captain was apparently shouting, though not loud enough to be heard in the bullpen. He kept pointing at you, then yelling some more before he eventually slumped in his seat, dismissing you and Gavin while he got to work on his computer. Now that you and Gavin were facing his direction, Connor could read Gavin’s lips as he told you to wait for him while he made some calls. That gave Connor all the time he needed to approach you and find out what was going on.

“(Y/N), is something wrong? What was that with the Captain?”

You didn’t answer, instead holding out the bouquet card for Connor to read, which he did in a second.

_Detective (L/N),_

_I know who you are and where you live._

_Should you continue to hunt me, you will find me, hunting you._

_Sincerely, The Fornication Flayer._

If it wasn’t evidence, Connor would have torn the card up right there. How dare that murderer use Connor’s bouquet to threaten you! Controlling himself, Connor simply said, “I’ll check the security footage and have this analysed immediately.”

You shook your head, trying to organise your thoughts, “Uh… Gavin- Gavin’s already doing that. I need to um- The Captain’s told me to go home today to check surveillance near my place. I should go.”

You took a few dazed steps away but Connor grabbed your hand, “I’m coming with you.”

You didn’t argue, instead taking support in Connor’s firm grip and fighting away any fear you held that a serial killer was now targeting you; the realisation was terrifying.

* * *

You fell to your knees, covering your mouth to fight the whimpers escaping it. Until now, you never actually believed The Flayer knew where you lived, only where you worked. Yet, as you looked around at the remains of your apartment, there was no denying that by acting as bait, you’d certainly caught his attention.

Currently, you were in the remains of your kitchen where you and Connor had been laughing a mere day before. Had the Flayer been waiting outside then for you to leave so he could get a good look at you? Between the drive to and back from the DPD, he’d had a window of exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes to destroy everything you owned, or so Connor told you. You picked up the shards of a broken vase that had been a gift from your parents when you’d first moved in, cutting your thumb on the sharp edge and dropping it.

“Careful,” Connor said, pulling you up and examining the cut. The glass crunched as he walked over it to a ransacked drawer, bringing back some anti-sceptic spray and a plaster. He took care of the tiny cut as efficiently as he’d taken care of everything else since he’d stepped into the apartment. While you had looked at the broken remnants of your life, thinking only of the damage, it had been Connor who’d updated the precinct, searched your apartment, pieced together what little he could of the puzzle, and recovered a few clothes for you to take to Hank’s where he insisted you would stay.

“What um-” You tried to get over your shock to form the necessary words, “Did you find any DNA traces.”

Connor swallowed anxiously; he couldn’t bare to tell you about the large quantity of semen that ruined your bed which was why he hadn’t let you into your room. He shook his head, going for a half-truth, stroking your hand gently the entire time, “Not even a hair or fingerprint.”

“Any more notes or anything that will lead us to him?”

“Nothing yet, but I swear, if it’s the last thing I do, I promise I’ll find this guy for you (Y/N).”

You took a shaky breath, gritting your teeth, “Not before I do. He’s gonna pay for this shit.”

Connor squeezed your hand, “Come on, Hank’s on his way up. He can deal with the Captain. Let’s go home.”

Reluctantly, you turned away from the mess that used to be your home, letting Connor lead you away; one way or another, you would make it your home again once you knew it was safe to do so.

* * *

After three weeks of working 24-7 on the Flayer case with Gavin, being guarded at work and at Hank’s by whoever was with you at the time, sleeping on a lumpy sofa, and being woke up most nights by startling nightmares that you kept quiet, you decided the only thing to do was ‘ _grin and bear it._ ’ It would be so easy to be scared and miserable, but that was exactly what the Fornication Flayer wanted from you. Instead, you defied him by finding joy in your life, taking time to smile with Conor and Hank, and persisting to hunt the Flayer with every free moment at work.

Your optimistic attitude was the cause of Hank’s irritation on your twenty-first day as his house guest. He rolled his eyes from the sofa, grumbling, “Why’ve you gotta play that dumb game with Con? You know he can’t taste.”

You smiled playfully at your new game, in which Connor had to close his eyes and turn off his scanners temporarily to taste a food you were holding and guess what it was; he was wrong every time, though he indulged you with more rounds, enjoying the fact you could still find happiness in your dire situation. “Maybe he can evolve,” You countered.

“You know that’s impossible,” Connor chuckled.

You shushed him, determined to win the pointless argument or at least annoy Hank in the process. Evidently your plan worked because Hank turned off the TV. “Enough of this shit,” He said, padding into his room, leaving you and Connor alone. You glanced at the oven clock, finding it was almost midnight, but not saying anything so you didn’t have to go to sleep.

Despite your silence, Connor seemed to come to the same realisation for you. “Shouldn’t you be getting to sleep now too?”

“I’m not tired yet,” You said nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t press the matter further or mention that you hadn’t even got changed for bed yet. “Come on, just a few more rounds of this and I’ll sleep.”

“No way, you’ll jam my mechanics if you keep making me play this.”

“Party pooper.”

Connor smiled, “Fine, see if you can guess what things are.”

You shrugged, simply happy to delay sleep by a few more minutes. You shut your eyes, holding out your hand for the spoonful of whatever Connor had prepared for you. Feeling the cold metal in your hand, you brought the spoon to your lips, eating its contents. “Way too easy, Robo-cop. Strawberry.”

“Alright, then try this,” he gave you another spoon.

Your face contorted in disgust, “Ew, God, was that- Was that yogurt and pepper?”

Connor laughed heartily and you opened your eyes to examine the products remains, “Gross.”

“Hey, shut your eyes, I’m not done until you get one wrong.”

You took a sip of water before complying, waiting while Connor topped a spoon with wasabi and paprika. He stared at your face, finding his all-too familiar longing returning to him. Glancing at the spoon, he placed it silently on the table, acting on complete impulse instead. Standing in front of you, he bent down, barely thinking as he pressed his lips gently against yours. Shocked and confused, you opened your eyes, pushing Connor away the second you did.

“Connor, what the hell are you doing?” You stood up and hissed, careful not to alert Hank to what was going on past his bedroom door.

Connor’s LED flashed, continuously switching between yellow and red. He stared down at the floor, unable to meet your eyes, “(Y/N), I- I have feelings for you.”

You shook your head, disbelievingly. Everything in your life had been beyond your control for the past few weeks and the idea of one more unknown scared you more than anything. “I don’t believe this. You can’t just go around kissing people, okay? You can’t!”

You moved to the door, grabbing your boots and coat. Connor reached out for you but you pulled away, the action hurting him more than if you’d physically slapped him. “(Y/N)…”

You shook your head irritably, “No. Just stop. I don’t- I can’t handle this right now. I have to go.”

“Go where? It’s still dangerous for you to-”

“Dangerous? Really, that’s what you’re going to lecture me on? Fine.” You whistled for Sumo, grabbing his lead and attaching it to his collar. “There, not dangerous anymore. Dog’s a freakin’ tank.”

You didn’t give Connor any time to argue as you stormed out of the house, running down the street. Unsure of what to do, Connor called for Hank, he had to repeat himself a few times, having barely made a sound at first. Hank stumbled grumpily out of his room, “For fuck’s sake Connor, what is it-”

He fell silent, seeing the tears streaming down Connor’s face. He grabbed Connor’s shoulders, “What is it son, what happened?”

“She doesn’t feel the same,” Connor whispered.

Hank sighed, wishing Connor was human so he could solve the problem with alcohol, He hugged his android partner tightly, “’s okay Connor, she’ll just need some time to come around… Where is she?”

Connor forgot his broken feelings as the reality of the situation hit. You were alone in the world, being hunted by a serial killer and he’d let you go; the night had just gotten a whole lot worse.

 

* * *

 

You trudged the cold streets of Detroit’s suburbia, not paying attention as the frigid air buffeted you from all directions. You knew it wasn’t fair how you reacted to Connor’s declaration of love for you, but then again, it wasn’t fair of him to say such a thing when your whole world was already upside down.

From your side, Sumo whined and you paused, checking your watch. Somehow, it was already half-past twelve and you’d been wandering the streets for almost twenty-five minutes. “You’re right boy, time to go back and face everything… not that I know where to start.”

Sumo whined again and you bent down to let him off his lead, giving him some room to roam; he never usually strayed far from you anyway. The action seemed to make the Saint Bernard a lot happier as he meandered ahead, setting the pace back home.

After walking only the length of the first street, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head as you were hit from behind. You fell forward, reaching out and scraping the palms of your hands. Dizzily, you looked up, barely seeing the man by your side before he hit you again, knocking you out. The man placed the rusted pipe he’d hit you with back into his belt, leaving no evidence for the police to find later on. Lifting you over his shoulder, he carried you down an alley to another street where his van was waiting. He took a moment to smell your skin and hair before placing you in the back and driving away.

In the distance, Sumo howled, running home and barking agitatedly at the door. Hank opened it, letting him in. Frantically, he grabbed his phone from the kitchen table, using speed-dial to call Connor who was out searching for you.

“Kid, get back here, Sumo’s back, (Y/N) isn’t.”


	5. Announcement

Hey, so this is just an A/N - I'm going to rewrite the last chapter to have a different ending because I rushed it out and I just don't like where it went. Anyway, if you liked the chapter, feel free to copy and paste it or whatever cos it'll be gone soon.


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